“You must see this,” Mensal said.
Daisy saw the face of the Pansitaurs, and her heart flooded with empathy and concern. She realized that the soil within this special pot must also be unique, for the Pansitaurs were more robust than any she’d seen on Rhoda. The colors—purple, yellow, and green—were beyond vivid with such intricate design, the flower petals so interactively complementary to project not a flower but a full-fledged face. The eyes although composed of swirls of tiny petals looked more optical than a human eye. The combined face more bullish than a baby bull. Their sadness a thing of beauty that broke her heart. Something was wrong. They projected it and had somehow touched her soul with a form of entanglement empathy that made them her babies, mother of an alien pot of Pansitaurs. They did a thing. A Pansitaur thing looking about, wondering. Discordant. Then they fell into sync. They’d go.
Daisy started to enter Pequod anyway. But had a second thought. A sudden sweep of conviction. Looked back at Mensal. “Come aboard. Bring the Pansitaurs.” She took a side of the pot relieving Mensal’s companion. The doctor and the Pansitaurs mounted the steps with her. Pequod door creaking shut behind them. All eyes within the Control Room turned. A dead silence pervading what had been an activity center of deep concern. Now a quiet display of confidence and professionalism gripped the room. Xalapeño with Adela at his side. They were all aboard.
Pansitaurs. (MidJourney animation. Non-literal)
